(Isabel's Perspective)
The air in the guild room was thick with a new kind of tension. It wasn't the chaotic, rebellious energy of our first few meetings, nor was it the fear we'd all felt after Adam's run-in with Kevin Lucas. This was different. This was the quiet, focused pressure of a real military briefing. The faces around the rickety table were the same, but they were harder now, sharpened by training and the looming reality of the war we had declared. Qasim, Padro, Ken, Kenji, Anna, Stacy, Tiffany, Axel, Jack, Leo—we were all here. The core of my brother's army. His kingdom.
And today, in his absence, I was the one on the throne.
My internal thought, "Don't mess this up, Izzy. Adam trusted you. They are all looking to you. Be the leader he needs you to be."
"Okay, guys," I began, my voice clear and steady, cutting through the silence. "I know you've all had a few days to rest and process our last victory. It's time to get back to work. Anna, you have something to share."
Anna stood, her posture still timid but her eyes full of a new, unwavering confidence. She activated the holographic display in the center of the table. A detailed satellite map of the city's industrial docklands shimmered into existence. "From an unknown source the Leader has placed," she began, the careful wording a silent acknowledgment of Adam's secret hand, "we have received the precise location and optimal time to attack the primary drug cartel hideout of the Ruthless Animals, operating under the Vulture Gang."
Tiffany leaned forward, her analytical gaze already dissecting the map. "So, what should we do?"
"I'm thinking of launching an immediate attack," I said, my own voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. "The intel from the Leader's insider confirms that the hideout will have minimal guards today. Most of their top enforcers have been summoned for a meeting with their leadership. This is our best and perhaps only chance to strike a critical blow."
"It's a sound tactical opportunity," Tiffany conceded. "But a direct assault is risky. We should contact Melissa Richard. Adam told us we could use his connection. Official police backup would minimize our own casualties."
Stacy, who had been observing the exchange with a cool, detached amusement, finally spoke. "Unfortunately, that's not an option for us. Tiffany and I will be… occupied with the task Adam assigned us. We can't be on the field today." She was referring to the next phase of "The Culling," a secret I knew was as important as any physical battle.
"It's okay," I said, a wave of resolve washing over me. "We can manage it."
"But it's dangerous," Tiffany countered, her voice sharp with a genuine, almost sisterly concern. "We don't even know their exact numbers."
Anna quickly interjected. "I do. I was able to access the building's security roster through a backdoor in their network. We're looking at two high-value targets and approximately forty low-level thugs."
I looked at Stacy and Tiffany. Their expressions were still conflicted, a mixture of strategic approval and personal worry. "I will be in command," I stated, my own confidence solidifying into a hard, unbreakable thing. "I have Axel, Ken, Kenji, Padro, Qasim, and Leo. And Jack will be my second-in-command. We have the strength. We have the strategy. We can do this."
Stacy let out a long, slow breath. "I'm not sure," she said, her voice a low, worried murmur. "If anything happens to you, Isabel… Adam will not be happy. He will burn this city to the ground."
I just smiled, a fierce, unwavering expression that I hoped conveyed the absolute certainty I felt. "And that's why nothing will happen to me. I won't let his kingdom fall while he's away." I looked from her to Tiffany. "Trust me."
Tiffany held my gaze for a long, searching moment. I saw her analytical mind weighing the variables, calculating the risks. Finally, she gave a single, curt nod. "Okay," she said, her voice all business again. "But you will make sure to stay in constant contact with Anna. And after you've secured the location, I want you to find everything you can that might be useful and then call Melissa. She is close with Adam; she will handle the cleanup without asking too many questions."
"And listen to me, Izzy," Stacy added, her voice a low, serious warning. "If the situation becomes critical, you leave. You all leave. We don't want to risk your lives. No asset is worth that. That's an order from your Chairperson."
I nodded. "Understood."
Jack, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, a wide, reassuring grin on his face. "Don't worry, Vice-Leader, Chairperson," he said, his voice full of a new, hard-won confidence. "We'll handle everything."
I looked at my combat team, at the fierce, determined fire in their eyes. Then I looked back at the three brilliant women who ran the shadow war. "We will handle our work," I said, my voice ringing with a new, undeniable authority. "And you will handle yours. That's how a team works."
Stacy's worried expression finally melted into a small, proud smile. "Good luck, Izzy."
Afterward, the seven of us—my combat team—left the room, the heavy, determined thud of our boots on the concrete floor a promise of the storm to come.
(Anna, Stacy and Tiffany's Perspective)
Hours later, in a sterile, soundproofed room deep in the forest bunker, the three architects of the coup were preparing for the final phase of their own war. The air was cold, smelling of ozone and recycled air. A massive, wrap-around holographic screen dominated one wall, currently displaying a complex, flowing river of whitewashed financial data. Anna sat at a central console, a silent goddess of the digital realm, her fingers a blur as she rerouted trillions of Funos through a labyrinth of untraceable shell corporations.
"The assets from the first ten are secure," Anna reported, her voice calm and even, a stark contrast to the monumental scale of the crime she was committing. "Their digital worlds now belong to us."
Stacy, who was pacing back and forth like a caged panther, stopped and turned, a slow, predatory smile on her lips. "Excellent work, Anna. Now, for the other one hundred and two… I think it's time we sent them a final gift."
Tiffany, who was standing with her arms crossed, a silent, analytical statue, gave a single, curt nod. "The psychological impact of a direct, unified message will be far more efficient than individual approaches. It's time to close the net."
"Exactly," Stacy purred. "Anna, initiate the broadcast. I want a private, encrypted, and mandatory video conference. Patch me and Tiffany in. And I want every single one of their faces on that screen."
Anna's fingers danced across her console. A moment later, the massive screen in front of them flickered, splitting into one hundred and two individual squares. A chaotic mosaic of panicked, confused, and angry faces stared back at them—the faces of the most powerful and corrupt people in Grand Metropolis, all of them ripped from their comfortable lives and summoned into this digital execution chamber.
A high-fidelity, life-sized hologram of Stacy shimmered into existence in front of the screen. She was the picture of glamorous, terrifying power. "Good evening, gentlemen," she began, her voice a low, silken purr that was broadcast into a hundred and two different offices, bedrooms, and boardrooms across the city. "I do hope we're not interrupting anything important."
Beside her, a hologram of Tiffany appeared, a stark, beautiful contrast of cold, analytical precision. "We will be brief," Tiffany stated, her voice devoid of all emotion. "You have been summoned because you, like the ten associates we dealt with yesterday, have made a series of poor business decisions. You have aligned yourselves with a failing enterprise. And now, it is time to liquidate your assets."
"Yesterday," Stacy continued, her smile widening into a vicious, triumphant grin, "we gave ten of your colleagues a choice. They chose wisely. We are now offering you the same… opportunity." She gestured to the screen, and in every one of the one hundred and two squares, a video began to play. It was the footage from the bunker. The panicked screams, the automated rifles, the sight of powerful men sobbing on the floor as they signed away their lives.
When the video ended, the faces on the screen were a canvas of ashen, mind-broken terror.
"We have already acquired every piece of digital information you possess," Tiffany stated, her voice a final, merciless judgment. "The contracts have been drafted. They are, as we speak, being sent to your personal devices. You will sign them. You will transfer your assets. And you will forget this conversation ever happened. Or we will release every one of your filthy secrets to the world and let the consequences fall where they may."
"Consider it a hostile takeover of your lives," Stacy added, her voice a soft, final whisper. "The choice is yours."
They didn't have to wait long. One by one, a series of digital confirmation chimes began to echo in the quiet bunker. They were signing. All of them.
After the video session ended, Stacy gave a final, chilling smile to the one hundred and two broken men on the screen. "Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen."
Tiffany looked at Anna. "We have the physical assets we want. Now you have full access to their digital ones."
"Anna," Stacy commanded, her voice a low, hungry purr. "Drain them. Suck them dry. Every single Funo, from their local accounts to their international holdings to their cryptocurrency wallets. Leave them with nothing."
"I'm working on it," Anna replied, her fingers a blur across the console.
After a few more moments of intense, silent work, she finally looked up, a look of pure, unadulterated awe on her face. "The assets are secured. I'm beginning the whitewashing process now."
"And the total, Anna?" Stacy asked, her voice a soft, eager whisper. "How much was our little shopping spree worth? For all one hundred and twelve of them."
Anna just stared at her screen for a long, silent moment, her own mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of what they had just accomplished.
"After everything is processed," she finally said, her voice a quiet, reverent breath, "the final gift from our new puppets… will be approximately Five Hundred Billion Funos. Or above."
A jolt went through Tiffany, a flicker of pure, unadulterated shock in her usually cold eyes.
Stacy just laughed, a low, triumphant sound. "Adam's tactics are amazing," she said, her voice a mixture of awe and profound respect. "I am amazed. This heist… it's legendary."
"That's the GDP of ten small countries," Tiffany breathed, her analytical mind finally catching up to the astronomical number.
Anna just shook her head. "This is just a speculation," she said. "The assets we've grabbed… it could be more than a Trillion Funos, when you combine the physical, liquid, and digital."
The three of them just sat there in the quiet, sterile bunker, the weight of the number, of the sheer, world-altering power they now wielded, a heavy, thrilling thing in the air.
(Christine's Perspective)
My internal thought: I know this is wrong. I know it. And yet…
I was in the middle of another blind date. Another predictable, soul-crushingly boring attempt to find a partner, to find someone who could make me forget the one man I couldn't have. We were in the most expensive restaurant in Riverdale City, a place of hushed whispers and clinking crystal, and my date, a man named Mr. Cylos, had not taken his eyes off my cleavage since we sat down.
I had worn a long, plunging silk peach dress, a deliberate, almost desperate attempt to feel something, anything. But all I felt was a dull, persistent irritation. He was thinking he had a chance. The thought was so transparent, so pathetically obvious, that it was almost amusing. The moment our date started, his eyes were locked on my chest, a leering, hungry look that made my skin crawl.
"Miss Holmes," he said, his voice a slick, practiced purr. "It's already getting late. Should I drop you home?"
My internal thought, "And there it is. The inevitable, clumsy attempt to lure me to a hotel. How utterly predictable."
I gave him a gentle, practiced smile, the kind I had perfected over years of dealing with men like him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cylos. I have my own car. But you're right, it is late. I should be going."
He tried to protest, but I was already on my feet, leaving him sitting there with his half-finished glass of wine and his dashed hopes.
As I drove home through the glittering city lights, a familiar, heavy sadness settled over me. It was the same at the end of every one of these dates. I still ended up comparing every man I met to Adam. From their looks to their character, to the way they held a conversation. It wasn't fair. To them, or to me.
My internal thought, "This is not how I'm going to find a partner. But my heart doesn't want any of them. I don't know why, but instead of getting farther from Adam, I'm getting more and more attached to him. Oh, God. This is not right. But it's all my fault. I'm finding Adam in all of them, imagining myself with him, how it would feel. This is not right. Aww, Adam, how can you be so perfect, that your aunt can't even think about any other man?"
I let out a long, weary sigh as I pulled into my driveway. "Let's just say good night," I whispered to the empty car. "I'll think about this tomorrow." But I knew I wouldn't. I knew